Decidedly with Wishes - Stina Lindenblatt Page 0,11
on that.” She offered us a soft smile, served us our wine, and left.
Dani picked up her glass. “Here’s to love-lie-detector tests that keep us from falling for the wrong wanker.”
Giggling at how she’d worded it, we clinked our glasses, toasting the suggestion.
The waitstaff came soon after with our meals—my friends had selected mine for me ahead of time. I was mentally scratching my head at the secrecy of their plans for the night. If they had told me about the silent auction, I would’ve been more than happy to come.
As the waitstaff whisked away our empty plates, a good-looking man stepped onto the stage.
“Isn’t that Logan Mathews from the San Francisco Rock?” Rachel’s attention was directed at the stage.
“Yes,” Amelia replied. “God, he looks incredible in a suit.”
“Thank you for joining us tonight.” Logan’s deep, compelling voice lulled the audience into silence, and he introduced himself and the organization that was hosting the charity auction.
He then described each item up for bid, giving us time between them to place our bids before he moved on to the next one.
Several items had already been bid on when he announced the French cooking lessons for two.
“Darn it,” I said, returning my wineglass to the table. “Why couldn’t it have been for cake-decorating lessons?”
“I don’t suppose lessons on making French food would count instead?” Rachel asked.
“Knowing my grandmother, you’re right; it wouldn’t.” Which was really too bad. I wouldn’t mind lessons on cooking French cuisine.
Even though it wouldn’t count toward the bucket list, I entered a bid.
A man with dark-blond hair and wearing a smoky-gray suit stepped onto the stage. He was the same blond man I had literally bumped into at the children’s hospital last month.
The bright stage lights glinted off highlights in his hair, and my body tingled at the memory of his hand on my arm. Only this time, my heart decided to get in on the act and it sped up.
“And the next item up for auction is a date with San Francisco Rock forward, Elias Lawson,” Logan announced into the microphone.
Elias strutted across the stage like it was a catwalk, and damn, he was swoony in that suit. Whoever his tailor was had done a great job with the fit. I didn’t know much about men’s suits, but I did understand that much from working with Robert and working with the male models on Ayanna fashion shoots.
I wasn’t the only one who felt that way about Elias’s swooniness. Cheers and hoots and lovesick sighs followed his every move.
“The date will include a delightful dinner at Bonterra Ristorante for two,” Logan explained.
I scanned the other tables. Some women were practically drooling on their phones in their haste to bid on him via the phone app. Others were staring openmouthed at him, too stunned to bid.
Could you blame them?
Elias walked to where Logan was standing and flashed the audience a look that turned all knees wobbly. God, if he played hockey as well as he smoldered, it was no wonder the Rock won the Stanley Cup this year.
“Aren’t you bidding on him?” Rachel asked me.
“Even if I did bid on him, I doubt I’ll win. Besides, my bucket list only says the hockey player has to be hot. It doesn’t say anything about him being on an NHL team.” Thank the good Lord for that. “I’m sure I can find someone who plays recreationally and who won’t cost me over a thousand dollars.”
Because based on the eager expressions on some women’s faces, I wouldn’t be surprised if their bids were that high.
The auction continued. Eventually, Logan ran out of items, and the waitstaff served dessert while the auction organizers determined the winning bids.
“God, this tastes amazing,” I moaned, trying to ignore the temptation to lick the chocolate sauce and whipped cream that clung to my plate. Around us, excited chatter and laughter filled the air like the noise from a troop of monkeys hanging out in the rainforest trees after spotting a banana on the ground.
“I was never a fan of chocolate cake until this moment,” Amelia said, creating the same moaning sound I’d just made.
“If I end up in heaven”—Dani waved her dessert fork at us—“this will be dessert for every meal.”
“Forget dessert. This will be my meal.”
My friends couldn’t argue with me there.
After the plates had been cleared from the table, Logan Mathews strutted onstage.
“Before I announce the auction winners, I’d first like to ask the event organizer to join me.” He held his hand out to